Ah, that's good. I wasn't sure if my English came out correctly; it's always good to have someone read it over

FGBrinny # KS # ksrs

This is your 2 day warning :)

Don't forget to PING anyone you want :D

@ Nicholas LOL lovely HA but..no story? @ Reaper Ty for your Entry :) @ ulalena Ty for your Entry :) @ LadyFangirl Ty for your Entry :) @ theladywrath :) 2 day warning now :D @ erik Ty for your Entry :) @ C00kie Ty for your Entry :) @ Hamlet Ty for your Entry :) @ Muerte Ty for your Entry sir ;) @ Die Ty for your Entry :)

Ugh, I know. I was going to write it today, but legit spent like 8 hours after waking up going back to sleep. :x

The story should come in by tonight hopefully. [edit] You got a forum point while making a post! Check out the shop here!

Writing the story at the moment! :D This really inspired me, thank you very much!

Pinging and ! :D

Eager to get involved in this, but not sure of what this means:

4. You have until March 8/15 11:59pm Subeta time to enter. I will announce winners on March 10/15 (I need time to judge 😃)

What does March 8/15 mean? I feel really stupid. As in the competition finishes March 8?

:D yes, it ends on March 8, 2015 :D So enter before then.

Cool, March 8 2015 11:59 pm! Got it!! :D Thanks for this!!

- Made one!

Outfit Not Found

A rich young girl, she is highly religious and sweet by day, but a secret wild stripper entertaining throughout the bars of Ireland by night.

Virus free and ready to share!

Outfit Not Found

I will tell you a story of how I came to know that not all the stories our parents passed down to us as kids are just stories, for I met a very special lady one night in a terrible snowstorm who saved my life. We lived in a small village, outside of what is now called Dun Phadraig (Downpatrick), and our traditions were rich in the old ways which even included a group of the elders playing their uilleann pipes.

One of my favorite stories I remember was that of the lady Brighid, whom we would leave out offerings and light candles for on February 1st, during her festival day of Imbolc. My mum said that when she was young, she encountered a lady in blue and long, flowing, golden waves of hair, that guided her one night when she was lost in the forest after gathering berries for the jam. By the time she arrived home it was late and she heard her mum out calling for her. She ran to the sound of her mum's nervous calls and when she turned to look for her beautiful guide, she was gone.

Years later, when we moved to Saintfield, a strong storm blew in that quickly covered the ground in several inches of snow. I was coming home from a friends house and quickly became lost, as the snow blotted out the path before me. As the bitter cold and blinding snow surrounded me and began to tear away at my senses, I felt a warmth begin to radiate from behind me. When I began my slow, disoriented turn, a warm hand touched my cheek for a moment and I saw a soft, yellow glow and knew that I was safe. I reached up to take the hand and the gold and blue figure stepped in front of me, taking the lead into the whiteout.

Before I knew it, I had completely warmed back up and in my relief I looked to the person, whom I then realized was a woman, to speak, and she turned to smile for just an instant before drifting away like a cloud in the wind. What I was left looking at was the light to my front door, just as the door swung open and my mum ran out to grab me up in her arms.

That night, as I lie in my warm bed thinking of the glowing lady that guided me through the storm, I thought of the story my mum had told me of when she was young. My comfort gave way to gratitude as the realization of who the lady was brought me to tears, and I swore to pass along the same stories and traditions to my own children one day so that they would never forget that even when everything seems lost, there is always hope in the world.

Twelve more hours to go. Going to get started with my entry now. :)

Hello wonderful fae, I'm sorry this stuff is so long._.Outfit Not Found

Ruari Murphy, a young pioneer born from Irish blood, stands a gasp at the discovery that lay bare at her feet. Under a mist of absolute uncertainty and drunken resolution, the born witch finally sees what her heart has always felt... Leprechauns!

Many years younger, Ruari will read about these unworldly creatures; they tusked teeth brimming of clover and eyes which father secrets as deep as the sins of their devil. Their sly fingers slither into cracks of the past and present, creating mischief at the turn of a thought.

However, Ruari will fall head in love with the dwarvens. They will continue to pull sinful strings in her heart, and play tricks with her mind, They will feed on her sadness and relish in prosperity at her misfortune. And yet, Ruari Murphy will grow to love nothing more.

3 weeks to now, when her mother dons the likes of a drunken bartender and father dreams of playful females, Ru stays upstairs in the attic, growing etchingly close to her bereaved grandmother's casket. Opening up the lid, she discovers a rustic old book written in calligraphy more sophisticated than even the famous Arabic.

An elfen book, guided only by the irish. Only by those thick of blood and bane. Ruari murphy now lay stricken in wonder and disbelief as she realizes her life was not as a simple as before, she is to be the one whom will bring closer the bond of reality and delusion.

Here Ruari Murphy finds a type of 'luck' known only to the woeful leprechauns as a piercing pendant of eternal misery.

Just wanted to add, that was absolutely beautiful! 10/10 would cry again xx

Thank you so much :) I am so happy that someone likes it! ❤️

I was trying to name my fairy when I came across a Scottish name that meant 'dark for peace' C: I hope you like the story!

Private Outfit

She flitted among the columns in dizzying patterns. Up and around, back down again and weaving this way and that. She was either looking for something, or trying to gain attention from an unknown entity, or maybe she was just bored of waiting. Whatever the reason, she continued to do this for what seemed like ages. If the air could show a trail as well as the forest that surrounded the small shrine, there would be a depressed trail weaving about in what seemed to be random happenstance.

After a few more turns she stopped and hovered, gazing at the shrine, before darting off into the forest behind her. She wove through the trees at speeds too fast for any living creature to see her. She only slowed down when she came to a clearing and stopped at the edge to watch and listen. Her wings beat at the air as she lowered herself onto a branch of one of the trees. Down below, an older gentleman stumbled into the clearing and sat down in the middle, letting the sun caress his worn face. He hummed a gentle tune, the notes being carried on a slight breeze to her ears. It was beautiful and sad. It told of a long life, bittersweet and full of adventures. He was asking for help with his last one. When he finished humming, she stayed in the tree, watching as he sat there still as a rock, and as patient as the trees waiting for rain.

The sun ran its course and began its descent several hours later. Not once did the old man look around to see if anyone was coming. He just waited. Finally, when the moon rose and was able to see the man for itself, she left the branches and went to the old man. She lightly touched his cheek and flitted about his outstretched hand, guiding him in the dark. He tripped several times, fell even more, but still, he followed. He never cried in pain, nor did he ever ask why she hadn't come to him sooner. He just followed. She would stop now and then to let him rest, but always she stayed ahead of him, leading him into the darker parts of the forest. It wasn't until the sun started to rise that they finally saw the shrine. She darted forward and again began her dizzying weaving.

"What is your name?" the old man ventured to ask.

"I am your Fia."

"My Fia? How could that be?"

"Come and see."

The old man stepped forward and into the patterns that Fia had been creating in the air. Each line a memory. He cried as he slowly turned around and gazed at the small fairy. "My Fia...I thought I had lost you in the darkness all those years ago."

"Come be with me again," she said before disappearing into the shrine.

He followed her in and ended his adventure to start a brand new one.

As the sun rose, another little fairy exited the trees and started to flit around the columns of the shrine in more dizzying patterns, but different from the ones before. Maybe this one was waiting for someone as well.

Finally had time to finish and glad I could enter :)

ty for your entry :) ty for your entry :) ty for your entry :) ty for your entry :) ty for your entry :)

only one more hr to go :)

Here’s my entry. :D

1. Outfit

Outfit Not Found The avatar features Finley Lowe not too far from the historic Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh, Scotland.

2. Background

Finley Lowe, 19 years old, is clever, shy and passionate. She is from the city of Inverness in the Scottish Highlands. She uses the term “city” rather loosely, because home has always been this bubble where everyone knows each other. You never meet anyone new or learn anything new. After all, how many times can you drive by the freshwater loch and be disappointed that you will not be able to find Nessie?

To this day, in her very young life admittedly, the most memorable moment remains when she found out that she made the grades to study at The University of Edinburgh. Her first thought was finally. An adventure. Something I can experience for myself. She wasn’t dying to study English, but literature was something that she understood. Mostly, she wanted to be in Edinburgh and enjoying the heritage… the history. To be in the centre of it all.

Over the course of her three years, the things that she found herself being drawn to the most were the political groups at University. Although she has always been up for an adventure, she has become less of the wallflower that she was in secondary school, and has opened up immensely after meeting wonderful friends. She became heavily active in the student union’s activities to campaign for Scottish independence.

3. Story

Disclaimer: This doesn’t actually say anything about my politics nor how I feel about how the Scottish Independence should have went.

Set in August 2014, during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe (the world’s biggest arts festival) and weeks before the Scottish independence referendum on 18 September 2014

“What do you think?” Finley asks her friend as they sit on a bench in George Square, gesturing at the clown nearby wearing a Yes! badge. She tries to keep her voice neutral, but she can’t suppress the knot of nervousness in her stomach. Despite that she has been vocal about her support for an independent Scotland and is dressed the part in her tartan dress (not to mention those Yes! flyers on her lap), she worries about clashing with a friend, especially in this political climate. “Do… do you think it will happen?”

Nursing his beer, Thomas shrugs. “I hear enough aboot it.” Finley smiles to herself. His ever startling Glaswegian accent reminds her that he knows about the situation all too well. “I understand, but I reckon that we’d be worse off - a lot worse - without the English.”

“The UK,” she corrects before sipping her ale. Looking around, she sees hundreds of people eating, sitting on the benches or grass, and looking for the next show to watch. The atmosphere of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe is chilled and energetic. It is almost as though the city will not face a political upheaval in the next few weeks. “Not just the English.”

“Like the Welsh do anything… I doubt they get anything done in Belfast either.” Thomas is teasing her. “I know you want it to happen.”

“I… I do want it.”

A girl circles their table with pamphlets in her hand. There are people handing out flyers everywhere during the Fringe to sell shows. Every year, the arts festival transforms the city into this lively, chaotic, musical… being. It’s worth spending a few weeks during the summer in Edinburgh, even if she is here for the term time.

This summer is unique, because Scotland only has a short while to go before the Referendum. Finley and her Pro-Independence group are using the festival to flyer theatregoers, informing visitors that the Scots should have their own country. Hopefully, this will gain some support amongst English visitors: even if only the Scots are voting, the English have a big influence.

“Do you think it’ll happen?” Her voice is timid.

“The economics disagree.”

“I know, I know.” Her chest aches.

It is possible that her dreams will not come true. That the Scottish people are another’s.

Economics be damned. Money can be earned later, but the identity crisis, centuries of history and the current developments in devolution are bigger reasons as to why a Scotsman should endorse the September proposal.

It has only dawned on her recently that the referendum is especially close to home because it goes to the core of who she is as a Scotswoman… as a person. Finley, who is never certain of herself, is relying on the referendum to provide an answer. She rationally recognises that, yes, the UK and Scotland are better together economically, and that Scotland will barely stand a chance in international politics, but she nevertheless wants her beloved Scotland to take a risk. If Scotland displays bravery, she might one day see this quality reflected in herself. Maybe, this will make her more secure about who she is.

Finley has spent the last two weeks during the Fringe in a routine. Wake up, breakfast, flyer, lunch, flyer, dinner, flyer, flyer, sleep. (She goes to bed dreaming of blue Scottish independence flyers.) She keeps a smile on her face and keeps talking to theatergoers that she forgets the chance that, on the 18th of September, she might have to face a Scotland without the future she wants.

Speaking of flyering, she must head to the Balmoral Hotel soon to campaign for the next two hours.

Her heart is heavy as she looks at her friend; for a moment, her fear catches up; she resists the urge to cry.

Thomas smiles sympathetically. “You alright?”

Lochs. Green pastures. Arthur’s Seat at dawn. Sunshine on Leith. Closing her eyes, Finley thinks of joys that she believes in her heart an Englishman will never truly understand -

Adrenaline and hope rush through her veins again.

@ Dragonfae @ Arwen @ gryphongrl @ impalaFreak8877 @ KarenP @ Poison_Envy @ Moyoleuhqui @ Hamda @ Nicholas @ Reaper @ ulalena @ LadyFangirl @ Hockey @ C00kie @ Hamlet @ Muerte @ Die @ Shur

WOW just WOW! Thank you everyone for entering! I didn't think there would be that many :) I just want to say that y'all made it really hard to choose!! There are a lot of talented people on this site, and I'm so happy to have had a chance to read some of your work! :)

And without further ado! I have announced the winners under the WHAT DO YOU WIN FOR YOUR EFFORTS?! spoiler :D If you are a winner, please set up a junk trade, and I will offer your prize! :D

Congrats everyone! and thanks for playing! I hope you had fun participating :)

as always BOOBHUGS

FGBrinny

My heart jumped for a moment there ^-^ haha

Congrats to the winners!! :D

Congrats to the winners! :D :D :D

Congrats to the winners !